


Taarsidath-an halsaam

by aflockofseagulls



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Iron Bull has a dragon fetish I don't really know how else to describe this, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Solo, Submission, implied d/s relationship with the inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflockofseagulls/pseuds/aflockofseagulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he could remember, the Iron Bull has really liked dragons. Really, really liked them. Now with the Inquisition, he's offered a chance to see (and fight) a live dragon face-to-face. And oh, does he enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taarsidath-an halsaam

**Author's Note:**

> This is terrible. I feel bad. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just really like the idea of Bull being really into dragons sexually. I mean, he says he masturbates to them in canon! Maybe it's because I'm an awful furry that I like this idea so much. Regardless, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

They had been planning for weeks to get to this point. Taking on a dragon was no small feat, after all, so all the proper preparations would have to be in place – the Inquisition couldn’t lose any of its most valuable members at this point in time, and especially not the Inquisitor himself. Each core member had been practicing their talents, regardless of whether or not they’d realistically be picked, simply by virtue of ‘better safe than sorry.’ Going up against a dragon without the proper preparation could be a scarring experience, and something no one would willingly want to go through.

It was for this reason that the Iron Bull had spent the past weeks training as hard as he could, making the most of his Chargers’ skills to do so. Even combined, they were nowhere near the level of a dragon at its weakest, a fact he didn’t hold against them. Dragons, after all, were nearly a physical incarnation of unadulterated power. They were the closest an organism could come to perfection – and they made him fucking hot.

He didn’t know when it started. The strange stirrings had always been there, even as a child – he just didn’t know what they were for a long time. The first time he really remembered it happening was while reading a book that purported to tell the story of a dragon hunted down and killed by a group of Ben-Hassrath. To this day, one of the illustrations was still burned into his mind – a full-color painting that took up the entirety of the page, showing the brilliant red dragon in flight, a glare in its eyes unlike anything he had seen before.

That book, years later, was the first thing he ever masturbated to.

Sure, his tastes had… _expanded_ since then, bringing men and women of all races into his arms, but none of them ever quite managed to bring him the pleasure that thoughts of dragons still did. He usually lasted pretty long (or, at least, so he liked to believe) in bed with others, but the thought of a dragon, not even doing anything, simply standing there, was enough to bring him to orgasm in less than a minute, without fail. Thus the prospect of fighting a real dragon made blood pulse through his veins, his face fill with blush, and his crotch throb.

Days of training passed like minutes, punctuated by what was at first his frequent need to break in order to masturbate. After a day or two of that, however, Bull realized that the best experience would come if he let everything build up inside of him – thus, he stopped masturbating. At all. The next week and a half were dry as a rock for him, though he felt the pressure in his crotch reach levels nearly unbearable from time to time. Even the Inquisitor, who had come for a quick rendezvous dressed in a collar with a leash and not much else, was turned away. He needed to make sure that this battle would live up to his fantasies, the ones he had spent his entire life dreaming about.

Finally, the day came. Though he had chosen not to be physically intimate with the Inquisitor in preparation for the dragon, he had given him an order that the Inquisitor, submissive as ever, was happy to carry out. The official dragon-hunting party was announced: it was to be the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Varric, and Dorian. The others were of no importance, but it was nice to see that the Inquisitor had taken his orders to heart. Bull made sure to visit the Inquisitor privately after the announcement’s end to give him a pat on the head for his obedience.      

The journey to the Hinterlands was always a short one, taking only a few days to complete if the group was aided by magic in their travels. For Bull, however, it was nearly unbearable, an exercise in just how much anticipation a person could take. On the outside, he was outgoing as ever, cracking the same lewd jokes, but inside he felt as if he was burning up. All he could think about were dragons, dragons flexing their muscles, dragons flapping their wings, dragons breathing fire, dragons swinging their tails. Whenever he closed his eye he saw them, the vivid images accentuated only by the throbbing of his cock, hard against his baggy pants. He was surprised he hadn’t had a wet dream yet with how much he had built up inside, but with the Hinterlands in sight just after the dawn of the fourth day, he knew there would be no more interruptions, and a negligible amount of waiting.

Confirming his assumption, they arrived at the camp immediately next to the region the dragon made its home in only a few hours later. His body tingled with excitement at the thought that he was so _close_ to one of the majestic creatures – in only minutes, he’d get to see one. It was impossible to hide his excitement anymore, with a large grin covering his face and a noticeable lump in his pants eliciting a bit of alarmed whispering from the other members of the group. Of course, they didn’t mind seeing it; it was just that they were just curious as to what caused it, a question soon answered as they set out towards the lair of the dragon.

“ _Nnngh._ Looks like dragon territory.” The Qunari’s voice is unsteady and his words are punctuated by the grunt that begins them, as sexually-charged as the innuendo he so often spouted from the same mouth. It was a sound that the Inquisitor knew well, and a sound that the others knew the Inquisitor knew well. “ _Oooh_ , this is gonna be _good_.” Bull nearly purrs the words, the giant grin spreading across his face, his skin turning reddish with blush as he prepares his axe. He could hear it, the sound of its wings upon the air, the unnatural sound of a blast of fire. It was so much sexier when it came from the real thing – he had pleasured himself to mages lighting fire in imitation of dragons before, and it did the trick, but he now saw just how much it paled in comparison, barely capturing the force of what he heard now.

The dragonlings that fill the valley pose a negligible threat, and the team makes short work of them, Bull not paying the smaller dragons any attention. He wasn’t interested in them – they didn’t have the aura of power that adult dragons had; if they weren’t larger than him and able to crush him at any time it didn’t really count as a dragon. As they move through, they pass multiple fires evidently set by a dragon, a sight which makes Bull’s skin crawl. The thing that had set those fires was _here_ , so close to them, he could feel it in his bones.

Then they were upon it – the region known as the Blood Cliffs; a valley in a range of cliffs made of geometric pillars of stone, and in the center of the valley sat the dragon Bull had so dreamed of. He was able to recognize it instantly – it was a Fereldan Frostback for sure.

And what a beauty it was.

The colors were even more brilliant in person, with the bright orange-yellow shining in the afternoon sunlight. None of the illustrations or paintings he had seen could capture the beauty of its scales reflecting the sunlight, different colors shining forth depending if the light fell on one of the more orange patches of scales, or the more greenish patches; the colors mixed together in a patter reminiscent of the uniform some of the deep-stealth Ben-Hassrath wore, though theirs were usually greener in order to blend into the flora. He couldn’t remain pondering on one thing for too long, however; his eye followed the scales downward towards the dragon’s stomach, where they increased in size and became a duller brownish-yellow color, punctuated by bits of skin a much brighter yellow. Biting his lip, he felt himself stiffen even harder (if that was even possible at this point), thoughts filling his head. He wanted to grope the dragon, to feel its scales against his flesh, to lick it, to feel the cool scales against his lips – the dragon raises a claw as if to beckon to him, a sight he’s not sure if he’s imagining or misinterpreting. In reality, it was probably just making a movement to declare dominance instead of to invite its admirer to fulfill his fantasies, something he still found attractive (after all, there _was_ dominance involved).

“Oh, would you _look_ at _that_!” Bull doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. His voice is charged with a raw lust, drool spilling out of the corners of his mouth as he shouts the words, heavy breaths audible even over the noise of the dragon. As if in reply to him, the Frostback turns its head to face him, making direct eye contact with Bull.

It’s nearly too much for him to handle.

“That is… _magnificent_!” The dragon lets out a screech in response, and begins to move towards the party. Bull, still all smiles, runs full speed into the beast, swinging his axe with a triumphant jump and sinking it directly into the dragon’s side. The blood sprays all over his face, but before he can react, a powerful blow from the dragon’s tail sends him flying – he’d been hit with cannonballs that had less impact than that. He flies for a few full seconds before smashing into the cliff face and slumping to the ground, his vision blurring and spinning. It takes him a second to recompose, but when he does, by the gods, the sight is magnificent. From this spot, he can see all the action with none of it being able to see him: down there are his comrades, his lover included among them, screaming as they fight the dragon, their magic rending its flesh and causing it to recoil, their arrows sinking through scales as if they were nothing more than flesh. Reaching his hand up to his face, he wipes some of the dragon’s blood from his cheek tenderly and slips his finger into his mouth, sucking the blood off it, the metallic taste filling his mouth. With this taste, the taste of the dragon, inside of him, he can finally finish his inspection with a glance at the dragon’s tail, the one that knocked him so far away. It’s so long, covered in beautiful scales and with spikes jutting out from it, and what it must hide beneath it, where the tail met the –

That’s it. He can’t take it anymore. The pressure is too much. Dropping his axe, he moves and clumsily begins to unfasten various buttons and clamps around his abdomen, his hands shaking so badly that he can barely steady himself to get them off. Finally, he’s able to remove the belt, letting it plop into the dirt he sat on, and allowing him full access to what he needed to use. Slipping his hand into his baggy pants, he uses his other arm to pull back the waistband, allowing his cock to spring out, already fully erect and leaking pre-cum like demons from a rift. He takes his cock in his hand and begins to pump, eye intently set on the dragon – he needs no sort of lubricant for it with how turned on he is already – and lets out a loud grunt of pleasure. It was overwhelming just watching it, drool spilling from the mouth on its horned head, letting out screeches in-between bursts of fire and whips of its tail. He imagined riding it, getting behind it and fucking it, the dragon letting out grunts and whines of pleasure as it offered itself to him. That was what he loved about dragons – they were so intelligent, even more so than humans, or Qunari, or dwarves, or even elves. No, they were above all, and most importantly, _above him_.

Bull’s body clenches as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, feeling as if his insides will literally explode. With each movement up and down with his hand, he can physically feel the semen moving up the length of his cock. His breaths are short, heavy, and ragged, barely able to sputter out a moan or groan in-between breaths. It takes all he has to not cum immediately, but curling his fingers into the ground and his toes in his boots can only hold back so much; after a certain point, he can’t take it anymore. The cum spurts from his cock in a way he’d never felt before as he thrusts his hip against his hand, semen landing as far up as his upper chest. His loud grunt and subsequent moans, one of decreasing volume with each thrusts, erupt from his throat as if he’s a wild animal, his mind overwhelmed with the waves of pleasure that wash out across the entirety of his body. By the time he’s nearly done, eyes coming back into focus, a trail of semen leads all the way down his chest as he continues to pump, white liquid dully oozing from the head of his cock and being smeared on his hands as he moves up and down.

It’s the best he’s ever felt. As far back as he could remember, he’d never felt anything like this pleasure – none of his partners ever had given him this sense of satisfaction. No man or woman, regardless of how sculpted their physique was and how charming the look in their eyes was, had ever given him an orgasm even close to that. It took all he could muster to not just immediately start masturbating again – he was sure the refractory period’d be over soon enough – but he supposed that he should probably help the rest of the team. Before he could do that, however, he’d have to clean himself off, a task he attended to delicately, in opposition to the haphazardness with which he’d taken off his belt and pulled down his pants. Drawing a towel from a small compartment on his belt, he quickly wipes the semen from his chest and abdomen before wrapping his cock in it and squeezing out anything left inside. Even he himself was surprised by just how much he had released with how damp the towel had become. As it was probably unsalvageable, he just tossed it behind him into some bushes and left it for whoever would pass through here next. Getting dressed was the next step, and it was sad, but he managed. His erection had already come back in full force, but he resisted the temptation to pump at it even a little bit – he was sure he had more in there, and walking over to the rest of the group with a large stain in his pants would be awkward for even him.

\---

Maker, the dragon was kicking their asses. With Bull’s mysterious disappearance, he had left the three of them to fend for themselves, and two mages and an archer wasn’t exactly the best team for fighting a damn dragon. Varric had already gone down twice, and Dorian seemed to be holding on for dear life himself. Bull had been acting strange all day, sure, but the Inquisitor hadn’t thought much of it at the time. It was just Bull being Bull had been his rationale, but…

Interrupting his train of thought was Bull’s booming voice.

“Hey Boss! Sorry to keep you waiting!’ With that, his huge figure landed with a thump on the ground next to the group and charged at the dragon, axe in hand. His frenzied strikes impressed the Inquisitor, and in only a few seconds he had seemed to do more to hurt the dragon than the three of them had in five minutes.

“Where were you, Bull? We brought a reaver along with us for a reason, you know.” His tone is inquisitive, but playful, curiosity beating out the Inquisitor’s desire to chastise the warrior.

“Well, Boss –” Bull’s words are cut off by a loud grunt as he rips his axe from the Frostback’s side and plunges it in again, “ – the dragon knocked me out for a bit, is all. Was out of commission for a few minutes. To recuperate.”

The Inquisitor doubted the story, mostly because he had never seen Bull get knocked out by _anything_ , regardless of size, but was willing to let him off with that if it meant they wouldn’t all get killed or have to retreat with their tails between their legs.

“Anyway, Boss, I could really use some – _nngh_ – help here!” With these words, the Inquisitor realizes there’s no more time to sit and ponder these things. There was a dragon that needed killing, and one of the Inquisition’s best fighters was putting his life on the line to personally maul it to death himself. He needed all the help he could get.

“Forward! Focus all your attacks on providing cover and support for Bull!” The Inquisitor’s command rings out through the valley, and the three others charge forward, into the heat of the battle.


End file.
